A Passionate Marriage
by ShinyShimaron
Summary: "What kind of wife cheats on her husband in that way?" A day in the life of Wolfram and Elisabeth, now married and living together, passionately. One-shot.


**Summary:** A day in the life of Wolfram and Elisabeth, now married and living together, passionately. One-shot.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters of Kyou Kara Maou.

**A/N:** After watching the episode with Elisabeth again, I sort of giggled at how dramatic both she and Wolfram are, and I wondered what it would be like if Wolfram had made good on his proposal and married her. This is the result.

**A Passionate Marriage**

It was springtime in Shin Makoku. Delicate blossoms fell slowly to the ground from colorful trees, and tweeting birds flew gaily by the windows of the von Biedefeld residence. Wolfram sat at the breakfast table, as he always did, his spork slowly moving around the contents of his plate. Across from him sat his wife, Elisabeth. She was not eating, but staring at her husband's plate with piercing eyes. After some length of time, she spoke.

"Are you enjoying the breakfast I have prepared for you, my love?" she asked, passionately. Wolfram continued to pick at his plate.

"Needs salt," he muttered, stuffing more food into his mouth. All was silent for but a moment.

"There is salt on the table, you can add it if you like."

Wolfram did so. "It still has no taste."

There was another long pause. Then, Elisabeth's chair slammed back as she rose, pointing furiously at Wolfram's pale face.

"You do not like the food I so lovingly cooked for you, you filthy oaf?! I slaved away in the kitchen for hours, and all you can say is, 'it has no taste'? What kind of husband says that to his wife?!"

Wolfram rose, pointing his own finger at his wife's face. "How dare you call me an oaf, woman! I sit here and lovingly eat your disgusting food even though it tastes terrible and gives me indigestion, and you are not grateful for my sacrifice? What kind of wife is not grateful to her husband?"

"My love for you burns like the fire of a thousand suns, you food-hating mongrel! You junk-scarfing loafer! You-" She was interrupted by Wolfram grabbing her around her waist and planting a huge kiss on her lips.

"I love it when you speak passionately to me," said he. She jumped on him and they both landed on the breakfast table, kissing one another with incredible force. This is how it had gone every morning for the past year. Countless dishes had been broken, breakfasts spoiled, and tablecloths stained with lipstick in the carnage caused by the world's most passionate couple. All was going well on this morning until Wolfram, ever vain, happened to spot himself in the mirror.

"Oy! You're getting lipstick all over me, you disgusting trollop! Isn't your love strong enough that you would avoid soiling your husband's face?!" He sat up angrily.

"Isn't your love strong enough that you would accept my kisses openly and passionately? Why do you betray my love this way, you cheating bastard?!" She slapped him across the face. He slapped her across the face. Then, she slapped him again, and they resumed their love-making session.

When they finished, they silently cleaned up their mess, sweeping up the broken dishes and displaced flower petals and other kitchen decorations, and removing the tablecloth to be washed. Elisabeth returned to the back of the residence to re-apply her lipstick. Wolfram went to the kitchen to remove it.

In the afternoon Elisabeth sat on a bench, observing her husband lovingly as he sparred with one of his inferiors. Every day Wolfram practiced his swordplay, while his wife watched on from afar. According to Wolfram, a husband must defend his wife honorably.

"You can defeat him, Onii-sama! I believe in you!" she cheered from the sidelines.

"Shut up, woman!" said Wolfram angrily, "I'm trying to concentrate!" He disarmed his opponent, who went to retrieve his sword. Wolfram sheathed his and crossed his arms grumpily.

"What sort of man are you, refusing to take encouragement from his lover?" she asked.

"A wife should not interrupt her husband when he is fighting! I could have lost an arm!"

"That is because you do not know how to concentrate during a battle! I could show you how, I mastered all of my classes-"

"How could you defeat anyone with your weak arms? Men lose to you because they are mesmerized by your beauty, not because of your skill."

"What?" Elisabeth stood up, annoyed. "What kind of husband doubts his wife's skills? I have trained my entire life in the art of sword-fighting, and my skill is even greater than yours, you insulting, rat-munching hilt-dropper!"

"That's right! You are always sparring with the other men! It's dishonorable! Disgraceful! What kind of wife cheats on her husband in that way?"

"Are you saying you wish to fight me, then?" she asked passionately.

"Of course not! What kind of husband would I be if I attacked my wife?"

"I think that you are just afraid of my skill." She drew her sword.

"What are you doing, woman?!" asked Wolfram angrily.

"Show me your love for me! Fight for your love! Or are you just a coward?" Elisabeth whipped her sword back and forth dramatically.

Wolfram's servant looked on from the sidelines, clearly bored. "Wolfram-sama, should I set up a duel?"

"Shut up! I mean, yes, if I am to prove my love…" he glowered at his wife, who stood there with shining eyes.

Thus Wolfram and Elisabeth were about to spend the afternoon as they did every afternoon, locked in passionate combat in order to prove their love for one another. Sometimes the instigator was Wolfram, sometimes his wife, but it always ended the same way.

Wolfram and Elisabeth faced each other, lines of chalk drawn in a rectangle in their usual place. Their swords were drawn and each was ready to attack.

"I will defeat you and show you the greatness of my love," proclaimed Wolfram.

"There is no way your love for me can defeat my love for you!" cried Elisabeth, raising her sword into the air.

Wolfram rushed her and their swords clashed, passionately. Elisabeth squealed and began beating at Wolfram with her sword dramatically, while Wolfram defended himself. Wish a swing of his sword, Wolfram nicked the edge of his wife's hair.

"What kind of husband does that to his wife?" she cried with passionate rage, and attacked him even more forcefully. Swords were singing with such passion, and drama, that soon the two were breathing hard, panting even. And with one broad swoop each disarmed the other, their swords flying off into the distance. Unarmed, they continued to fight, pulling at each others' hair, working into a violent embrace. As the son set they collapsed to the ground, making love passionately.

Meanwhile, Wolfram's retainer pulled a dark curtain around the dueling area, has he had every night since the beginning of their passionate marriage.


End file.
